


Atlantis

by Lupin111



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, community: qaf_giftxchnge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 17:24:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5975349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lupin111/pseuds/Lupin111
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:</p><p>Sequel to ‘Rome’ (written for the QAF Gift Exchange 2013)</p><p>Could be read independently, but makes far more sense when read as a sequel.</p><p>Beta: Xrifree</p><p>AU, tattoo artist Justin with a prison record meets Brian, who comes in for a tattoo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mander3_swish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mander3_swish/gifts).



“Brian Kinney. What does your therapist make of that?” Cody did not look up.

Justin tried to dim his smile. “What are you talking about?” 

“Sex. With Brian Kinney. The resident roadside Lothario of Liberty Avenue. Is this recommended therapy for a person suffering from clinical depression?”

Now Justin’s smile _did_ disappear. “I thought you said I didn’t need a therapist.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not depressed.” 

Justin felt exasperation rising in him. “Isn’t therapy the answer to depression? Or do you want me to get on antidepressants?”

Cody turned to look at him, placing the papers he was working on in front of him. “All I know is, seeing a therapist because your parole officer makes you see one, and an over-worked state employee at that, is an utter waste of time. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re severely depressed.” 

“Ok, whatever. This conversation is pointless. I’m depressed and my therapist is useless. Got it.”

“Are you fucking out of your mind?” This time, it was Cody’s exasperation that was obvious. “Look at your track record. The first time you gave your precious heart away, the guy tried to kill you, and you did time for defending yourself. Now that you’re finally stringing your life together, you fall for Brian Kinney? Who’s going to throw you to the curb as soon as his fucking tattoo is done? Do you have some kind of death wish? Is that why you’re chasing guys who will reject you in nineteen different ways?” Cody pushed away the papers in front of him in disgust. “Praise the Lord Kinney isn’t the violent kind,” he chanted, about three octaves higher than his normal pitch. 

“Stop it!”

Hearing the truth was not a pleasant experience for anybody. 

“And I have no desire to ‘string my life together’. My life died the day Hobbs died. I just need to survive. Wake up in the morning. Go to bed at night. Eat. Drink. Survive.”

Cody raised an eyebrow. “And Brian Kinney is what, exactly? Food? Alcohol? Water? Sleeping pills? An alarm clock, perhaps?” 

Justin sighed and rubbed his temples. “It’s just sex. Was. It _was_ just sex.”

“And the next four sittings he’s going to come in for? It’s _just_ going to be sex then as well, I suppose. Listen, Justin, it’s been quite clearly established that you’re an idiot, but please, don’t group _me_ in that category. Feed your bullshit to someone else. Like the one who just walked in through the door,” he added, as Brian walked in.

 

* * *

 

“So…how come you want a tattoo? That too, when your friends seem to have the final word. You don’t seem the type to be told what to do.”

Brian shrugged in response, and earned a rebuking from Justin. “Don’t fucking move! Goddammit, now I have to do this all over again.” Justin glared, though Brian couldn’t possibly see the glare, unless he had eyes at the back of his head. “Talk, but do _NOT_ move.”

Justin went to get some alcohol to erase the tracing he had begun. 

“Chill out, would you? You barely got started.” Brian had the audacity to laugh. This time, he actually got to see Justin’s withering glare. “Ok, ok, Picasso, I won’t move.”

“Well? Why are you getting a tattoo?” Justin asked in a conciliatory tone; he figured that it wasn’t Brian’s fault that he was obsessive about his work to the point of insanity. 

“Pfffffffffffffft. Slutalia.”

“Huh? What’s a ‘Slutalia’?” 

“Slutalia is what I like to call the dumb blonde fuckwit that the senior partner at my firm – office – is screwing. I believe others refer to her as Natalia.”

“Uh-huh. And you…don’t believe in interoffice romance? How prudish.” 

Brian snorted. “I don’t believe in romance, period. Love is for bourgeois suckers, who want sappy bullshit to cloud their judgement and induce delusions that, without a doubt, ultimately fucks them over. Romance is for the weak and stupid.”

Justin maintained a calm exterior. 

It’s. Just. Sex.

It’s. Just. Sex. 

It’s. Just. Sex.

There was no need for Brian’s rant to stab at him so hard.

“Riiight. So what _do_ you believe in?”

“I don’t believe in romance and love and related bullshit. I believe in fucking. It's honest, it's efficient - you get in and out with a maximum of pleasure and a minimum of bullshit.” 

Cynical to the core – a man after my own heart, Justin thought bitterly. “You were telling me about Slutalia. And how she’s responsible for you getting a tattoo.”

“Aaah, yes. Well, Vance can fuck her, or anybody else. I don’t give a shit. But it becomes a problem when said fucking leads to promotions and important designations for utterly incompetent creatures.” 

“Talk all you want, but don’t you fucking dare move a muscle.” Justin started tracing the design onto Brian’s back. _Again._

“Right. We wouldn’t want poor Justin to start all over now, would we? So much better things to do with our time, I believe.” Brian’s voice took a dangerously lusty tone. 

“Are you trying to make me horny? Because, word of advice, you shouldn’t want to induce twitching muscles and spasms and distractions to the person that’s working on permanently branding your back. With a very sharp tool.” Justin replied flippantly.

“And my talking isn’t a distraction?” Brian sounded disappointed. 

“Not when it’s about a dumb blonde. Stories like that are background music. And I’m curious. You don’t want a curious man etching your back, either.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” Brian sounded amused.

“It’s supposed to be tell-me-the-fucking-story-already!!!!”

“Jeez. Fine. Well, Vance bought the agency from the previous owner a few months ago, so technically, we’re all still on ‘ _probation’_. Vance knows she’s as dumb as a post. He just wants to maintain the benefits, so he makes her someone else’s headache. He promoted her to the traffic department, and she gave the departments wrong deadlines on one of my pitches, mixed up the photography recs, spilled coffee on the mock-ups, and fed peanuts to my allergic-to-peanuts Art Director the night before the presentation. Amongst many other fuck ups. Needless to say, nothing was ready, in spite of all of us working overtime to get everything done. I managed to smooth it over with the client and get an extension for the presentation.”

“So…no harm done?” 

“You would think so.” Brian sighed. “ _But_. I had actually made a bet with Ted and Michael months ago that by end of last month, I’d have the account. Obviously, an extension on a presentation is not the same as having the account, and, when you make a bet with an accountant, they become worse than lawyers. Worse than Lucifer.”

“You know, that’s kind of funny…I bet they wanted you to get a tattoo because it would mar your perfect body…” 

Brian growled in response.

“Ok, so maybe not that funny. But it _is_ smart. And a lesson in narcissism.” 

“I’m not a fucking narcissist.”

Justin guffawed. “Oh please.”

“Hmf. Well, a tattoo will only mar my perfect body if the tattoo isn’t perfect. So, you better make sure that tattoo is fucking perfect.”

Justin smiled. “Or else?” he teased.

“Or else, you will face punishment like you’ve never known before.”

Punishment…

Justin’s mind clouded over, as he remembered the Pine Grove State Correctional Institution. His mother’s face appeared, her last visit, a few months after he had been incarcerated. She was crying, apologising, saying that they were moving, for Molly’s sake…she wouldn’t be coming to see him anymore… 

Molly…Daphne…

Daphne had come to see him every week, until her parents forbade it. She had written to him faithfully, until she went to Europe for the summer, and then college and…it was easy to lose touch with a person who was in prison. He hadn’t seen or heard from Daphne for years…she probably wasn’t even in Pittsburgh anymore. 

Punishment was having the person you were in love with try and kill you. Punishment was killing another person, losing your family, your friends, your life…

_Yeah, I very much doubt that you could show me punishment I’ve never known before, Brian._

“Well?”

Justin realised that Brian had asked him something while he had been lost in thought. There was no way to get out of this without looking like a fool. 

“I’m sorry Brian, I was…I was thinking about the colours here, and got distracted. What was that again?”

“Is that why you don’t have a tattoo? You think it’ll mar your body? Seems an odd principle to have, working at a tattoo parlour.” 

Justin shrugged, though Brian could not see him.

“It’s hard to have principles when you’re a segment of society often considered to be sub-human and outliers. I certainly don’t have many left.” 

“Why would you be considered sub-human? Just because you’re into this stuff? It isn’t the ‘40s, Justin, and besides, we’re queers. We embrace difference, not shun it.”

Justin contemplated that briefly. It was definitely true that queer society was more accepting, but…a murderer was a murderer. There was just no getting away from that. 

Brian was still speaking. “Besides, outliers are all the rage. I’m an outlier.”

Justin laughed. “No, no you’re not. You just like to think of yourself as one. You’re a leader. You’re different because you lead, not follow. But you’re not an outlier from society. You have a very mainstream job. You have a family – a non-traditional, non-blood related one, but a family. You have friends. You…you’re very mainstream. If you take the skeletal framework of what society expects, you’ve ticked off all those boxes. You stand out not because you’re an outlier, but because you’re a leader.” 

“No one in my entire fucking life has called me ‘mainstream’.”

Justin laughed. “Clearly, they were all scared of you.”

“And you’re not scared?”

“Not of a goddamn thing.” Which was true.

“So, what principles do you have left?” 

Justin was surprised at how easy it was to talk to Brian.

“Be clean before your friends.” 

“I’m not sure what that means.”

“You remember Cody? The other guy here? His tattoo of the Madonna and baby Jesus? I’m the one who did the drawing for that. That’s what it means. Be clean before your friends. Never betray them. Your friends will be all you have, when the whole world abandons you. Be true to them.” 

The image itself was not religious, and its symbolic meaning came from prison lore, but Justin kept that detail to himself.

“So how come _you_ didn’t get that tattoo?” 

“Because tattoos have more than one meaning. There’s what you see, there’s what people see, there’s what you want people to see. But it’s also a permanent reminder of your life at that moment in time. Like a photograph you can never lose. And…all the moments in my life…I don’t want that reminder.”

“You can’t tell me you’ve never had that moment in life when you weren’t happy. Or free. I know you were ecstatic when I fucked you.” 

Justin laughed. “That’s it, Brian. I’m going to get a tattoo that represents that exact moment in time when your dick was up my ass.”

Beyond the joke though, Justin could see the truth of it. Being with Brian he _was_ free. Of not being burdened by his past, of not having an image to live up to, of not having to care, of not being reminded… 

“We’ve all had that one moment,” Brian repeated.

“When I was a kid, yeah. Not since I was…seventeen.” 

“Your parents kicked you out when they found out you were gay?”

“Don’t all parents?” Justin responded lightly. It was easier than the truth. 

“Hmmm.” Brian was silent for a while. “Wanna grab a beer at Woody’s after this?” he asked, after a few minutes.

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

 

This story archived at <http://www.midnightwhispers.ca/viewstory.php?sid=3417>


	2. Chapter 2

“You’re drawing again? For fun?” Cody sounded a tad more than incredulous.

“For art,” Justin singsonged.

“Sex with Kinney last night have anything to do with your new-found inspiration?”

“No. It’s just nice, you know, to hang out with people whose biggest problems are plaid or plain. It’s nice to be part of a normal life.”

“Uh-huh. You’re _not_ part of their life. Plus, everyone has problems, Justin. They just don’t share it with the latest blonde boy-toy Kinney is playing with.”

“Yeah. Well. I bet their parents don’t include trying to kick a drug habit, or not having enough money to pay their dealer, or being evicted, or bedbugs, or trying to get a job with a record, or –” 

“Their ‘ _parents’_? You mean ‘problems’…?”

“That’s what I said.” 

“No, you said ‘parents.”

Justin shrugged. “Whatever. I meant problems.” 

“Are you thinking about your parents?” Cody asked warily.

“Please. What’s there to think about?” 

“Well, they abandoned you in your time of need, so there _should_ be nothing to think about, except to say good riddance to bad rubbish. But, since you like being a little bitch about these things…”

“ _They_ did not abandon me…my mother came to see me…it was just Dad…” 

Cody scoffed. “Oh yeah? Then where is she now? She came to see you. Then she stopped. Because she abandoned you, just like your dad.”

“That’s not true. She had no choice.” After hating both his parents for some time, Justin had now moved on to what he considered to be a pragmatic view of the matter. His dad had _always_ been homophobic; statistically speaking, he would have abandoned Justin sooner or later. His mother had always been weak, and open to being controlled by a stronger, more dominant personality. He knew she loved him, but for as long as she was under his father’s control, chances were high that she would have to imitate his behaviour. 

All that was under normal circumstances. There was nothing normal about having a seventeen year old son who killed someone. Self-defence, murder or any other spin a lawyer was going to put on it, fact was that Justin had killed someone. And that was public knowledge.

The best of parents would have struggled with that, and Justin’s parents were not the best of anything.

All that with a young daughter in tow. 

Hurt and angry as he was, he understood why his father dropped all contact with him. Yes, Craig had abandoned him, but under the circumstances, Justin was willing to forgive him for it.

He also understood why his parents decided that it was better for Molly if they moved to a different state. 

It hurt not having his mother around. It hurt terribly. But he couldn’t expect her to sacrifice Molly having a normal childhood so that she could hold his hand. At least _one_ of the Taylor children had to have a shot at being normal. She wrote to him now and then. He kept her pace. When she contacted him, he responded, and left it at that. One day, when Molly was all grown up, maybe…

“You’re fucking with my mood,” Justin stated. 

“You’re thinking about your parents,” Cody responded.   

Justin let out a big sigh. “I met this really incredible lady.” 

“A woman?”

“Lady _usually_ means woman. Brian took me to Woody’s, and Michael was there – remember him? - and then his mother was there and –” 

“The one dating a cop? That mother?”

“I didn’t ask her about her dating life,” Justin bristled. 

It was Cody’s turn to sigh. “The Michael who hangs out with Kinney has a mother who works at the Liberty Diner, and she is attached to a cop. Why the fuck do you think I’ve told you to never step foot inside that place?”

“Whatever. She was amazing. So nice and friendly and chilled out and loud and friendly.”

“You already said friendly.” 

“Yeah well, you’re fucking with my mood and ruining my high.”

“You’re high?” 

Justin rolled his eyes. “Metaphorically.”

“You did drugs,” Cody stated. 

“Do you know what ‘metaphorically’ means?”

“I know what _lying_ means. Should’ve fucking known that you did something.” Cody sounded disgusted. 

“I _didn’t_ do drugs. It was just some weed…I’m not an idiot. You can trust me.”

“I suppose your parole officer shares your point of view.” 

Justin sighed. “I don’t have to _not_ do drugs. It’s just recommended that I don’t. So I did a bit of weed. Big fucking deal.”

“I know his dealer.” 

“You know _everybody._ ” It was true. Anyone worth knowing, Cody already knew, usually through nefarious means. Justin generally didn’t ask questions when he knew he wouldn’t like the answer.

“Tiny woman called Anita. You saw her a few months ago.” 

Justin frowned, trying to recall. “Is this the woman whose boyfriend you beat up? The one who gave some shit to Derek and told him it was E?”

Cody nodded in response; he had taken a rather large bite out of an apple and couldn’t speak. 

The high he was on had to with the sex he had had, and not the weed. Cody’s preaching about drugs wasn’t going to affect that, Justin told himself.

 

* * *

 

 

“Where are you taking me?” Justin looked at Brian, who was concentrating on the traffic ahead. 

“To a place that will lead us to sex, drugs and rock and roll.”

“So, Babylon, then? I thought they didn’t open this early.” Justin looked out the window, and was assaulted by uncomfortable thoughts. What would Brian say if he knew Justin had been in jail? What would he say if he knew Justin had killed someone? Would he understand? Or would he…? 

“House party.” Brian didn’t take his eyes off the road, but Justin could see that he was smirking.

“Oh. I would ask whose house, but since we move in entirely different circles, I won’t bother.” 

Brian seemed slightly disappointed in Justin’s lack of curiosity. “It’s not really a house party – Ted insisted people come to his new condo to be fed. However, there will be music, there will be drugs,” he patted his pocket at that, “and there are plenty of places to have sex in.”

Ted hadn’t struck Justin as the kind to throw parties, but he also hadn’t struck Justin as someone who would be a regular amongst Brian Kinney’s posse. He wondered if that said more about Ted, Brian, or his own inability to read people.

 

* * *

 

Ted’s new condo was…well, it was like most new condos. Swanky, modern, with clean lines. Justin felt a tad wistful, when he thought of his own dumpy apartment.

Justin didn’t have much time to mull over architectural choices, because he was whisked away by Brian for an unscheduled quickie. As nervous as he was, it was easy to find motivation when Brian was your partner.

Brian then went to roll up a joint, and his friend Michael was talking Justin’s ear off about the superiority of the graphics in the Captain Astro comics as compared to the Death Angel comics, and Michael’s friend Emmet – another tall brunette in extremely flamboyant clothing – was playing with his cellphone. Justin was _just_ beginning to feel at ease amongst a group of people not his own. 

And then Michael left him in search of Brian. Normally, Justin did not mind being left to his own devices, but with Brian’s friends, he felt somewhat nervous and unsure. He wished they were at Babylon instead.

“Hey cutie, nice to see you here!” 

Justin smiled at the redhead, as she engulfed him in a hug. “Hi Debbie.”

“Hey Deb, sorry we had to rush out this morning!” Two attractive women – a blonde and a brunette – joined them. 

“Justin, have you met the girls?” Debbie asked.

Justin shook his head mutely, but smiled at the two ‘girls’, both of whom were a decade or more removed from the term. 

Debbie took on the job of introductions. “This here is Melanie, and her wife, Lindsay. Girls, this is Justin.”

“Nice to meet you Justin – are you one of Deb’s ‘lost boys’ too? Most everyone here is, except us girls,” Melanie said with a smile. 

“Uh…” Justin wasn’t quite sure what that term meant. Maybe it was how the busboys and waiters at the diner were referred to.

Debbie laughed garrulously. “Nah, honey, Justin here is one of Brian’s friends.” 

“Ohhh,” Melanie and Lindsay said in unison.

“So, how did Brian…you…where did you meet Brian?” Lindsay asked. 

All three women wore similar expressions. Surely Brian Kinney was the last person on earth that needed his friends to watch out for him, especially when it came to men, but these women were like hawks. Friendly hawks, but hawks.

Justin suddenly felt a pang of jealousy, and he wished that it was _him_ that these women were worrying about. That this was _his_ brand new condo. That this room was filled with _his_ friends and family. If things had gone his way, this could have been _his_ life. 

Justin smiled resolutely. “We met at The Black Dice…that’s a tattoo parlour on the corner of Glenholme and Elm. I’m one of the artists…tattoo artists there.”

“Oooh, the bet he had with Ted! That must hurt. I mean, not literally…well, I mean…you know what I mean,” Melanie prattled. 

“I’d love to see it.” Lindsay looked around. “Where is he?”

“Well, it isn’t finished yet. He has to come in for one more session.” 

“He’s smoking a joint with Michael on the balcony.” Debbie answered Lindsay’s last question.

Melanie sighed. “Great. Now he’s gonna be high. I told you. Just ask him to come over tomorrow so we can talk to him.” 

“Is everything ok?” Debbie asked. Concern or curiosity, Justin wasn’t sure which.

“Oh yes,” Lindsay reassured her. “We wanted to talk about schools for Gus…you know, some places are…old-fashioned…it might help to have a father and mother on the application, instead of a mother and mother.” 

“If you ask me, you don’t want to send your kid to any school with bigots like that,” Debbie declared.

This time, Justin was the curious one. “You have a son?” 

“Where’s Gus? I’m sure Justin here would like to meet him,” Debbie said.

“He’s got a cold and is just getting over the flu. We didn’t want to over excite him, so he’s at home with the sitter,” Lindsay then answered Justin’s question. “Yes, we have a son; Brian’s the father you know.” 

Wow.

Brian had a son. 

Wow.

“We also have a little baby girl – Jenny Rebecca. She’s here, playing with Michael. He’s her dad. Do you want to meet her?” 

Justin smiled at Lindsay. “I would absolutely love to.”

It was incredible to him that everyone here treated him so…normally. They didn’t know about Chris. They thought he was just like them. Normal. Well-bred. Harmless. Just another young gay kid, kicked out by his parents and eking out a living. Justin felt guilty, not telling them. Not telling Brian. There’s no way any one would be this good to him if they knew what he had done. 

But…at the same time, this was bliss. _This_ was the life he could have had. He could have been Michael. Or Ted. Or Melanie. Or any one of them. This was the parallel universe where his life wasn’t a ball of nothingness.

This was how normal people with normal lives lived. Hanging out with friends,having children, having parties, arguing about food and movies and wine. 

And…Brian was making this parallel universe…it was becoming a reality and Justin was becoming a part of it. Now _he_ was hanging out, playing with children, arguing about food and movies and wine. It was surreal, and it was so freeing at the same time.

He was carrying Jenny Rebecca – everyone called her JR – and making silly faces at her. She seemed to find it delightful, because she was chortling or gurgling or whatever it was that laughing babies did.

“You’re so good with her!” Michael cooed. “You’re a natural. Of course, JR is such a perfect baby, but you’re really great with her.”

Justin smiled, and tried not to laugh at Michael’s obvious fatherly pride. “She’s cute. And so easy.”

“I didn’t bring you here so you could play house,” Brian groused, coming up behind them.

“Michael’s baby is really adorable.”

“If you keep saying shit like that, they’re all going to rope you into babysit the monster.”

Michael hit Brian’s arm lightly. “You like her. I know you do.”

“I don’t mind babysitting. She’s great.”

“Excellent. I’ll make sure you’re around next time they expect me to watch Gus,” Brian told him. “Gus is my son,” Brian added.

“I know. I heard.”

“Like you really mind it, having to watch Gus,” Michael said.

“Well, someone has to provide the masculine influence. Life isn’t all motorcycle engines and power tools. He needs to learn about fine dining and Armani and Prada.”

Justin laughed. “All the important things in life!”

“And tattoos. Must teach him about those,” Brian noted.

Justin smiled. Could he really be a part of this world?

Brian nuzzled against his neck. “Your smile is beautiful. You should smile more often. Much more often.”

“Justin? Justin Taylor? It _is_ you! Oh my god, it is so amazing to see you! You look great!”

With that, Justin was enveloped in a hug by Blake Wyzecki, his counsellor from the pretrial days.

 


	3. Chapter 3

It was inevitable that he would have to talk to Blake sooner or later. Justin had made plans to meet him for coffee when they had met at Ted’s place a few days ago, where they didn’t have a chance to have a private conversation. Justin was actually kind of relieved. He had always liked Blake, and it was nice to be able to unburden to a person one actually liked.

“How _are_ you? I mean…I didn’t hear from you after the sentencing…and you’re out now…how are you? How come you’re out so early?”

“I was paroled after 5 years in.” Justin started folding his napkin into a boat. “I don’t know if I would have managed much longer in there if I hadn’t been paroled.”

“You got 7 years, right?”

“8 years. Manslaughter, and I got tried as an adult. Out in 5. Not a bad deal, I guess.” Justin shrugged.

“You did nothing wrong. You were defending yourself. You shouldn’t have been convicted at all.”

Justin shrugged again.

“Are you seeing anyone? A therapist? A counsellor?”

“Yeah, a therapist, but I hate him. He’s a moron. I’d much rather talk to you, to be honest.”

Blake took Justin’s hand in his. “Justin, you can always talk to me. You should have called me when you got out. You can talk to me now.”

“I…I want to be able to survive on my own. I knew I could call you, but…I didn’t want to. I’ve always…in prison…I just wanted to try and survive on my own, as much as I could.”

“Do you want to talk to me?”

“It was _so_ fucking hard, Blake. I…it’s like I was ‘on’ the whole fucking time. I couldn’t relax. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t feel. The whole fucking time, I was on guard, waiting for some other bullshit to happen, afraid of every step I took, every person I looked at, or _didn’t_ look at, just so afraid, and having to calculate every fucking thing. Every. Fucking. Thing. When to piss. When to allow yourself to fall asleep. How much food to eat. Who to look at. What to read. It’s adrenaline, but a whole other kind of adrenaline, and…there was no Mom. There was no Daphne. There was no you. There was no fucking anybody and I have no idea how I didn’t lose my fucking mind. How I managed to make it out alive.”

Blake asked for another cup of coffee, and some muffins.

“Justin, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Or if you can’t. Just…whatever you want, at your pace, okay?”

Justin shrugged again, since a shrug seemed to best express his feelings. “I feel like a zombie. I tried so hard when I was inside to survive, that now it’s like I barely have the energy to do anything. All this time, I’ve just kept my head down and stayed out of trouble and just followed my routine. And Brian…I was fine before he walked in. Getting on with life, managing. And now he’s thrown me off balance and I’m beginning to feel again and I’m kind of afraid and I kind of don’t want to. He’s the first since Chris that I…”

Blake frowned, confused. “But…when you were in…”

“They don’t count. It’s not like I _wanted_ to fuck any of them. Each and every one of them were…they were a way of staying safe. Sex was…is…was power. I was smart enough to realize that, and I also figured out pretty early that if I wasn’t going to willingly sleep with someone, a lot of people would have literally fucked me over, whether I liked it or not. So…it was just a way of staying alive, keeping my head above water.”

“You didn’t get hurt?”

“In prison, everyone gets hurt. You just learn to minimise the damage, the risks, as much as possible. I kind of got lucky. There was this guy – Dan - who was sentenced at pretty much the same time as me, and he knew this ‘guy’ on the inside. I was pretty much a willing slave for Dan, and his friend made sure that I stayed safe. And when Dan moved on, Cody…his friend…he still kept me safe. And then he also got out and things…things got much harder, but I had learnt a thing or two by then. Still. I was really on my own. By some miracle, I was paroled, and Cody took me in and gave me a job…I swear, if not for Cody, I’d probably be dead.”

“You’re very strong. You have an inner strength, and you would have made it through, somehow, with or without friends. You could have had all the friends in the world, all the support, but if you didn’t have the strength, the will, you wouldn’t have pulled through. Look at you know. You’re alive. You’re healthy. You’re on your own, you have a job. You’re even seeing someone. Though I have to admit, I didn’t know Brian was seeing someone.”

“I’m not seeing Brian. I mean, I guess I am, but he’s not seeing me. I mean…I don’t know. I don’t think…I don’t know.”

“You’ve obviously slept together…several times.” Blake prodded gently.

“Yeah…”

“And you’ve met his friends, hung out with them…?”

“Yeah…”

“And you met Lindsay, the mother of his son.”

“Yeah…”

“So there’s _something_ there…whatever label you want to give it.”

Justin smiled weakly. “I guess. I mean…yeah…I dunno. I’ve tried not to analyse it. I figured he’ll be done with me when I finish his tattoo.”

“And when are you finishing that?”

“Yesterday,” Justin answered sheepishly. 

“And…?”

“And he asked me if he’d see me at Woody’s later today. I dunno. I’m trying to not to analyse anything.”

“Uh-huh.” Blake nodded pensively. “Your…Ted didn’t mention anything to me about your…history, so I guess you and Brian decided that it wasn’t anyone’s business.”

Justin looked down, crumbling a piece of his muffin. He knew Blake was going to be disappointed with his answer. “I haven’t told Brian anything. He doesn’t know. He thinks I left home at seventeen because I was gay, and I just…I just let him believe that. I mean…I just never expected any of this. I’m a fucking ex-con. I thought I’d live my life in some hole, give people tattoos, realize that I’m 85 and die of Alzheimers. Or something…you can’t die from Alzheimers. A stroke. At 85, I’ll finally have a stroke and keel over and die.” 

“Justin…you can’t hide something like this from the man you’re seeing. Especially Brian.” Blake looked worried.

“I’m not seeing Brian! We’re just…”

“Justin.” Blake’s voice took on a grave tone. “Brian has a child. Melanie is a lawyer. Debbie’s partner is a police officer. He’s an advertising executive, with all types of clients. He could find out from a dozen different sources. You have to tell him.  I’m his friend; ideally, _I_ would have been the person to tell him. But I’m not going to betray your trust. So I really hope you’re going to come clean with him sooner than later. You can’t hide this. It’s not healthy for you, and it’s not fair to him. Even if you think you’re both not seeing each other, you have to come clean.”

 

* * *

 

“Were you out with Kinney again last night? I assume that’s why you’re late.”

Justin glanced at Cody as he walked in to work. He took off his coat slowly, and voicelessly dropped the newspaper in front of Cody before moving to his table. 

“I went to his grave last night.”

“What?” 

“I found Chris’s grave. I was there…for the better part of the evening.”

Cody pushed the newspaper aside, studying Justin’s face intently. He attempted some lightness. “Did you smash the headstone? I would have come and helped, you know?” 

Justin smiled a tired smile. He knew that Cody was worried. “Next time. I just…I’ve never been there, you know? After everything…I…I wanted to talk to him.”

“What did you tell him?” 

“That he was a fucking asshole, and he deserved to die. I…he knew I liked him. He fucking encouraged it. _He_ invited me to his house, _after_ I had given him a hand job. He fucking knew what I was. Who I was. How fucking dare he…I didn’t take advantage of him!”

“I know that. A lot of us know that.” 

Justin rubbed his eyes. Thinking about it. It made him angry. It frustrated him. Sometimes, it made him want to cry. He figured that it always would.

Chris fucking knew. He had known when Justin had given him the hand job, and he had known when he invited Justin over. He had known Justin was gay, he had known Justin was interested in him. 

After they had sex, to then accuse Justin of having tricked him, or having used and seduced him…it was a fucking joke.

Except, it wasn’t.

It was a nightmare that had started then and one from which Justin still hadn’t woken up. A nightmare from the time Chris had started pummeling Justin, punch after punch, raging at him for taking advantage of Chris. A nightmare that no one had been able to wake him up from. Chris would have killed him. Justin _knew_ that. Chris had said so. The look in Chris’ eye had been nothing but hate. And there had been no one to pull Chris off of him, to stop the blows…until, bleeding and barely alive himself, Justin’s fingers had felt the baseball bat under the bed, until he had swung it at Chris in pure desperation. Until Chris had fallen backward, hitting his head on the nightstand…until…

“Not everyone, Cody. Not everyone. Remember, I’ve been convicted for murder.”

“Manslaughter.”

“Big fucking deal. Murder, manslaughter…big fucking deal. I’m an ex-con. Sweet little Justin Taylor. He of the blonde hair and blue eyes and impeccable manners. He, the killer of murderous lovers.”

“Justin…”

It was impossible for Cody to temper Justin’s mood. The truth of Blake’s request was impossible to ignore. And what carrying out that request would mean…

“Brian took me to Ted’s condo. On Saturday.”

“Uh-huh…”

“That could have been my life, Cody. Finishing school. Going to university. Having friends. Family. Having class. Dignity. Respect.”

“I respect you. Kevin respects you. Dan respects you,” Cody said quietly.

Justin scoffed. “You respect me because you know me, you know what happened. You know what it’s like.”

“Justin, if Kinney and his friends can’t respect you, fuck ‘em. You don’t need that shit.”

“That’s not the point. I could have _had_ that world. I could have been friends with people like that. I could have held my own. Instead…instead…I belong to a completely different world now. A world that just doesn’t mix with his world. That world.”

“Did anyone say anything? Did Brian? I thought…?”

“No one knows, so no one has said anything. But you were right all along. There’s a cop, a lawyer, a counsellor…one of each kind there. Like a fucking cards pack. It’s only a matter of time, so…”

“So…?”

“I’ll tell him the truth, and then walk the fuck away, get back to my life, and never shall our worlds collide again.” Justin put his head down on the table.

Cody sighed. “Do you want a coffee? Something stronger?”

“Sometimes, I wish I could bring Chris Hobbs back to life. At times like this, I wish he had killed me instead.”

 

* * *

 

“Well, look who the cat dragged in.” Brian drawled.

Justin took a deep breath. It wasn’t too crowded at Woody’s, but he felt nervous to the point of claustrophobia. Brian was nursing a drink, and it was impossible to tell how much alcohol the man had already consumed. It was late enough in the evening, so Justin could only assume that a healthy dose of alcohol had already made its way down Brian’s throat.

“Hey.”

Brian motioned at the bartender to get a drink for Justin, and despite him saying no, the bartender started pouring a drink anyway. The man clearly knew who the boss was.

Justin sat down next to Brian. “How’s the tattoo? Is it…is it healing well?”

Brian shrugged. “Were you staying away until I ‘healed’?”

“I wasn’t…” Justin looked at Brian, and it was obvious. Brian knew something. In place of the normal touchy-feely-flirty Brian, there was a sphinx instead.

He was disappointed that Blake had told Brian, without even giving Justin a head’s up. At the same time, he wasn’t at all surprised to find that life had screwed him over again.

“I guess Blake told you.”

“What? Blake? The fuck are you talking about?”

“Uhh…I…” This wasn’t going at all the way Justin had planned. It was supposed to be quick and easy and cold and simple, and here he was, sitting at the bar instead, stuttering and sputtering and confused. “There’s something I need to tell you, and…and I thought that someone else might have spoken to you instead. First. Spoken to you first.”

“Aaaah. So. You’re here to…what? Undo your lie?”

“I never lied!”

“You sure as fuck didn’t tell the truth.”

“I didn’t lie,” Justin ground.  It was worse to be thought of as a liar than a murderer. “So Blake _did_ tell you.”

“You just hid who you were.” Brian paused. “Blake knows? Fucker didn’t tell me anything. Lindsay did. She was curious about you, so she looked you up.”

Justin scoffed. “You knew who I was. You just didn’t know my past. It wasn’t any of your fucking business anyway. It’s _my_ past, and it’s my decision when and whom I share it with.”

Brian raised his eyebrows. “Your past shapes who you are. You killed your boyfriend in a jealous rage. When you were seventeen. Shit like that speaks to the kind of person someone is.”

“Just don’t. Don’t act as if this is somehow…just don’t. _You’re_ the one who hit on me; _you’re_ the one who picked me up. You didn’t give two shits about who I was. I could have been a serial killer. You’re just upset that I stepped into your world without telling you first that…”

“You would have met Gus. You would have met my son. It would have been nice to know exactly who I was introducing him to.”

Justin felt tears prick his eyes, and he quickly blinked them away. It wouldn’t do to cry now. He had gone over almost five years without crying, and he wasn’t about to break his streak now. “So you’re the judge, jury, and executioner, I suppose? This is _exactly_ why I didn’t want to tell you. Tell any of you. I went through a trial once, and it was enough for one lifetime. I don’t need to be judged by every fucking person I have the misfortune to meet.

But it’s fine. Because I agree with you. You stay on your side of the world, and I’ll stay on mine. My world doesn’t mix with yours, and your world sure as fuck doesn’t mix with mine. I’m sorry. I should have never gone home with you, I should have never met your friends, I should have never… I have no fucking business being with people like you. I’m sorry for everything.” 

It wasn’t quick or easy or cold or simple, but it was done.

 

 

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

 

This story archived at <http://www.midnightwhispers.ca/viewstory.php?sid=3417>


	4. Chapter 4

“You can take a few days off, if you want.”

Justin glanced up at Cody. “I don’t need a few days off. I need to work. I need to keep busy. I need to be distracted.”

“You’ve been a miserable grouch.” 

“I’m _always_ a miserable grouch.”

“Well, you’re scaring the new guy.” 

Justin finally looked up in annoyance. “Fucking fire me then, for bringing down the atmosphere.”

“Where will you go for your distractions then?”

“Jesus fucking Christ. What do you want from me? You never liked it when I went out with Brian, you should be over the fucking moon right now."

Adam-the-new-guy buried his head in the design catalog.

“That’s because I thought it was dangerous and you’d get hurt. And I was right. If I knew you’d be so upset…”

“I’m not upset.”

Even Adam-the-new-guy scoffed.

Justin sighed. It had been days. Maybe a week. He didn’t know. He didn’t care. He wanted everyone to get off his fucking case. He wanted to go back to his old life of going through the motions and not caring about anything at all.

Eat, drink, work, sleep. Rinse and repeat.

If only his brain would stop thinking and his heart would stop feeling.

_If ifs and buts were pots and pans, there would be no jobs for tinkers_ , his Mom had used to say.

Justin crumpled up the piece of paper he was doodling on, and threw it into the waste paper basket.

“What time is it?”

“Half past eight,” Adam-the-new-guy said. “I have a guy coming in for a nipple piercing in fifteen.”

Justin couldn’t even bother nodding. He did not give a flying fuck as to what Adam-the-new-guy’s appointments were.

“Are you going to see Dr. Lai?”

“Dr. Lai can go...I _have_ to see him. Not like I’ll tell him anything. He’s a moron. I might…” He wanted to go see Blake, but seeing Blake wasn’t going to help him shutdown his feelings. Maybe the routine with Dr. Lai was actually a good thing. That’s what he needed. A routine full of unthinking, unfeeling morons.

A bell chimed as the door opened – something Adam-the-new-guy had fixed.

“Jesus fucking Chris,” Justin cursed.

Brian Kinney walked in.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Cody muttered.

“Can I help you?” Adam-the-new-guy asked brightly.

“No,” Brian told him, and walked to Justin’s table.

“Hey.”

Justin eyed Brian warily. There was no good reason for Brian to be here, standing in front of him. And yet, here he was. Justin braced himself. Since there was no good reason for Brian to be here, there could only be a bad reason.

“Are you here for another tattoo?” Cody asked.

“Maybe.”

Justin rubbed his shoulders, wondering if he was trapped in a nightmare-within-a-nightmare. “You just _got_ a tattoo. A massive one. Did you lose another bet?”

“I don’t make a habit of losing.”

“Is your…is the tattoo ok? Is there an infection?”

Brian took his jacket off, and undid the top button on his shirt.

Justin sighed. He wished Brian would get to the point. “Brian. What are you doing here?”

“You missed several chunks last time.”

“I _what?_ There’s no way I missed anything!”

Brian pulled a binder full of designs and started flipping through them. “By the way, I ran into Blake.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Mmm hmmm. Seems like you missed out on large chunks of information. You and Lindsay both. In her defence, she only had some media reports to go by.” Brian didn’t look up from the designs as he spoke.

Justin shrugged, and then realized that Brian wasn’t looking at him. What the fuck did this man want?

“Look, Brian, who cares? The bottom line remains the same. I said I was sorry. What do you want?”

“I want another tattoo.”

This time, Brian looked up and smiled at him.

 

**THE END**

 

 

 

 

 

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

 

This story archived at <http://www.midnightwhispers.ca/viewstory.php?sid=3417>


End file.
